


Legally Blond

by stickerjock



Category: Captain America (Movies), Legally Blonde - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Eventual Romance, Law School, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6929080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickerjock/pseuds/stickerjock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is about to graduate with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree from a small liberal arts school. So why does he suddenly want to follow his ex-boyfriend Tony Stark to Harvard? And how is he going to navigate law school when he knows next to nothing about the law? Also who's the cute, moody brunet helping his professor with a case?<br/>Inspired by Legally Blonde, this fic will be loosely following the events of the movie, but I'm definitely taking some liberties with the characters and keeping them more like their Marvel selves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let's Take Some Action, Baby

Steve’s palms are sweating. He hadn’t been this nervous around Tony since they’d first met during his freshman year. Tony was charming, handsome, and just enough of an asshole to make him insanely attractive to Steve. They were in English 101 together, the only class they would ever share since their majors were so different, and Steve had to work up his courage for half a semester before he could finally ask Tony out, his voice embarrassingly shaky. Steve thought Tony was just taking pity on him since he was so little and nervous, but as it turns out, Tony had been eyeing him up as well, jokingly telling Steve he “had a thing for blonds”. Steve let out a shaky laugh at his comment and they went on their first date the next day. Fast forward four years and here he was, just as nervous as he was back then.

He looks at Tony from across the table, his face warmly lit by the lone candle on their small table. The restaurant Tony has brought him to was expensive, and Steve’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he saw the prices listed on the menu, but he’d learned to stifle his reactions to prices since dating Tony. His boyfriend always insisted on paying for everything since he practically had money to burn, and Steve had learned to stop protesting after a few months. He didn’t want to admit to himself that occasionally, he didn’t mind being spoiled, especially when it meant he didn’t have to spend two weeks’ worth of paychecks on textbooks and art supplies.

Tony meets his eyes with his trademark smirk and a raise of his thick, but not unruly, brows. Is he hallucinating, or did Tony look nervous as well? Steve wonders to himself. He quickly pushes the thought out of his mind. Tony was never nervous. Unwavering confidence was his forté. Although, if the night was going how Steve hoped it would, Tony had a reason to be at least a little nervous. 

His lips quirk up in an automatic smile at the thought and he sighs a little to himself. A proposal, he thinks dreamily. All of Tony’s friends had been dropping hints about it. Rhodey was bugging Steve about when his next date was, and Pepper had been giving him shy smiles and giggles for weeks. Tony had been acting a little weird lately, Steve noted. A little evasive and, well, serious about more things than usual. Steve would catch Tony staring at him when he thought he was too busy with his sketchbook, and he was skirting around any comments Steve made about their future together. This really could be it, Steve thinks to himself before opening his mouth to speak.

“So,” Tony says before Steve could even get any words out, reaching across the table to put his hand on top of Steve’s, “I bet you’re wondering why we’re here, all dressed up and pretty.” He cocks his head as he speaks, never breaking eye contact with Steve.

Steve looks down at their hands and bites his lip, smiling. Tony’s hand is a little clammy, but he’s fine with it. “I suppose I am,” he breathes, looking back up at Tony through his eyelashes. This is it. The moment he’d been waiting his whole life for and it was absolutely perfect. Tony had treated him to a delicious (and incredibly expensive) meal, maintained his charming demeanor throughout the entire ordeal, and even made sure he complimented Steve on his (slightly too large) suit before the dinner had even started. Steve hated to admit it, but he really was a hopeless romantic and all of these gestures made his chest tighten up with adoration for his boyfriend.

Tony breaks eye contact briefly and looks at the table, licking his dry lips and giving a short, tense sigh. He really did seem nervous now, Steve notes. More nervous than he’d ever seen him, in fact. Steve leans forward eagerly, silently urging Tony to continue. Tony seemed to get the memo and returned his gaze to Steve’s lovestruck face.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began “about...us. And our future together.” Tony furrows his brow earnestly, giving Steve’s hand a small squeeze. “We’ve been together for four years now and I feel like I can really see how our dynamic is going to go in the long run, and I’m sure you’ll agree with me when I say this.” He pauses and inhales for a moment, seeming to be getting his bearings. 

Steve’s heart swells and he can feel his face breaking into a goofy, lovestruck grin, but he doesn’t care. His dream is about to come true. Before he can stop himself he blurts it out.

“Yes!”

“I think we should break up.”

Steve’s face immediately falls. He pulls his hand away from Tony’s slowly but deliberately. “What?” he asks, soft enough that it could almost be considered a whisper. “What did you say?” Steve repeats, his eyes already stinging from the threat of tears.

Tony purses his lips. He almost looks sad himself. “I said I think we should break up.” he says simply. 

Steve is sure he didn’t hallucinate it now, because Tony repeated it and you can’t hallucinate something like this twice. Tony seems to see how hurt Steve is and goes back to hold his hand. “Hey, Steve, baby look at me,” he pleads, chasing Steve’s eyes. “You understand, don’t you? I have expectations to live up to, babe. Look at my parents-- Christ, look at my whole family! You wouldn’t fit in with that kind of crowd. They’re all serious and you’re…” he trails off, not finishing off whatever unsavory adjective he was going to throw Steve’s way. 

“You’re not mad at me are you babe?” Tony asks, his voice softening. “You had to see this coming, Steve, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I thought you’d know.”

Steve laughs, if you could call it that, makes a choked-off sound and smiles bitterly, shaking his head. “I thought you were going to ask to m-marry me,” he says, a sob finally wrenching its way through him. Tears were falling now, but he didn’t care. His tiny shoulders shook with each of his choked-off sobs and he covered his hands with his face, not wanting Tony to see the absolute mess he’s made of him.

“Marry,” Tony mumbles. “You thought I was going to propose tonight? Shit, Steve, I’m sorry! That has to feel awful” Tony is speaking in hushed tones, obviously concerned with the fact that Steve’s started to make a scene out of this. He looks around warily at the other restaurant patrons, catching some stares (most concerned, some disapproving). He ducks his head a bit and leans closer to Steve.

Steve gets himself under control and takes a deep shuddery breath. Crying always gives him a nasty headache and he can already feel his skull pounding. “I have to go.” he says bluntly, regaining his composure little by little. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll see you around. Good luck.” His sentences and movements are stilted as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffles, placing the cloth napkin back onto the table and standing up to leave. Tony’s hand catches his wrist before he can take a step though, and Steve turns around slowly to face him.

“At least let me drive you back to your place, Steve.” Tony says earnestly. “We can talk about it. I don’t want you to be mad at me. We can still be friends.”

Steve wants to break his arm out of Tony’s grip and storm out screaming about his heartache, causing a scene and leaving Tony to deal with his aftermath. He wants to cause him at least a little bit of suffering for stringing him along for four years only to cut him loose after a consolation prize of double chocolate cheesecake, but his kindness gets the better of him and he nods, looking at the floor, and follows Tony out of the restaurant and waits as the driver pulls up in the car. Tony gets in first and holds out a hand for Steve to take. His left hand, Steve notes. The one that would’ve had a ring on it if Steve’s fantasy had played out.

How can I be so stupid, Steve thinks to himself. He begrudgingly takes Tony’s hand and climbs in after him, looking out the tinted window. Tony opens his mouth to say something a few times, looking over at Steve, but never does. Steve wraps his arms around himself and lets numbness slowly replace his hurt. He doesn’t say a word out loud the whole ride home.


	2. I'm Doing This For Love

Steve lets himself wallow for a little over a week. He practically never leaves his room except to go to class and even then he’s only really there physically, not mentally. He’s been living off of pizza and Chinese food all week and his body is practically screaming at him to eat a vegetable, any vegetable. He’s pretty sure that his already crooked back is even more messed up by his sad-about-Tony-induced slouch. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hair's a mess, he’s been wearing the same sweatpants for the past 4 days, and he’s definitely in need of a shower. Shaking his head at his reflection, Steve makes up his mind. Enough is enough. No more feeling sorry for himself. At least not so obviously.

He runs his hand through his (kind of greasy) hair and stops halfway when he hears a timid knock at his door. Sighing, he walks over to answer, the wood floor cold against his bare feet. Gabe is on the other side of the door when he answers, looking at Steve sympathetically.

“You doing okay?” Gabe asks gently, taking a small step towards Steve. Steve nods and turns his body sideways, indicating that Gabe can come in. The room’s a bit of a mess, but Steve’s long past the point of embarrassment by now.

“I guess,” Steve mutters, wrapping his arms around himself and turning his gaze to the floor. He leans against the door frame and Gabe sits on the bed. “I just feel so stupid still. Like I should have seen everything coming, but…” he trails off.

“You’re not stupid.” Gabe assures him. “But I’m glad you’re feeling a bit better. The rest of the guys are worried about you. They hate seeing you like this.” Gabe says, gesturing first to Steve’s rumpled look and then to the rest of the room. Steve gives him a small smile in response. He can tell that the other guys must’ve all gotten together to talk about his situation, and decided to send Gabe in to check up on him since, if they’re being honest, he’s the best at actually talking to other human beings in these kind of situations. The rest of the Commandos (Tim had come up with the name for their friend group after a particularly outlandish inside joke) were either too awkward with serious situations, or would try and joke around with Steve which is not what he needs right now. Gabe knows how to talk to him. He’s direct, but also sympathetic and understanding.

Steve walks over and sits next to Gabe and they just sit for a while. Steve unloads his baggage to Gabe and explains everything in full. After his date with Tony he had given everyone a babbling, tear-filled explanation that mostly just summed up the fact that Tony had broken up with him and his heart would never recover and he was “moving to Nepal to become a hermit because nobody will fall in love with me anyways”. Now Steve was feeling confident enough to detail the situation in full.

“He said he couldn’t see himself marrying someone like me,” Steve says, a heavy lump starting to form in his throat and Steve does all he can to choke it down because he is not crying again today. “Said he needs someone his family will approve of. Someone serious.” Steve rolls his eyes at that word, because he’s pretty damn sure he’s serious. Seriously in love with Tony of course, but also serious about his work and his life. He’s about to graduate with a 4.0 cumulative average and a degree in Graphic Design he worked his ass off for. Does Tony not even recognize that?

“Serious, huh?” Gabe scoffs and shakes his head. “His family’s probably just pressuring him to marry some stuffy, boring upper middle class lawyer so they don’t have to explain anything to anyone.” He says. “You were just too cool.” Gabe elbows Steve in the ribs softly.

Steve smiles at the gesture and rolls his eyes playfully. “Thanks Gabe. For everything.” Steve says, hoping Gabe will understand he means more than just coming in to check up on him. Steve braces his arms on his thighs and stands up. “Now I know I probably reek so I’m gonna shower. I’ll eat dinner with you guys tonight, okay?” It was Taco Tuesday, the one night of the week that all the guys got together to eat a meal together without fail. 

Gabe’s expression brightens. “See you there, bud.” He stands up and ruffles his hair on his way out, closing the door behind him.

Once Gabe leaves, Steve lets his expression falter a bit. He sighs and picks up his phone. No messages. Especially no messages from Tony. He had seemed friendly enough after the break up, but neither man had reached out to one another after they had parted ways. Steve was too afraid of looking pathetic and it seemed like Tony just wanted to put everything behind him. So Steve had resorted a bit to lurking on Tony’s social media accounts. 

Steve holds his breath for a moment and hesitates before typing Tony’s name into Facebook before giving up and doing it anyway. It’s not like he has much dignity left at this point and he’s only hurting himself. Tony hasn’t blocked him or unfriended him or anything, so it’s not creepy, right? Steve scrolls down his page idly, resisting the urge to like the few selfies and party pictures Tony posted over the weekend (that would be creepy, he chides himself) before stopping to read a status update that’s way too long to be written by Tony.

It’s from just over a week ago, but Tony was recently tagged in the comments so that’s why Steve didn’t see it before. It was posted by Maria Stark, Tony’s mom. Steve’s never met her, but Tony calls her by her first name when he answers her calls. One particular line catches Steve’s eye.

‘We are incredibly proud to announce the engagement of our firstborn son, Gregory Stark, to his fiancée Theresa Van Dyne.’

It goes on to describe how proud she and her husband are and how the two had met at Yale Law School. She’s a lawyer, Steve notices. Tony’s parents want him to marry a lawyer.

Everything seems to fit into place. Steve can’t lie to himself. He desperately wants Tony back in his life. He could be annoying and pretentious at times, but he was charming and a source of stability in Steve’s life. Without him, Steve’s emotions had plummeted and his self esteem had taken a serious beating. He doesn’t like to admit to himself how co-dependent he can be, but he’s been with this guy for four years. He needs to win Tony back, and the only way to do that was to become what Tony wants: a lawyer.

Steve locks his phone and places it back firmly on the bedside table, plans already brewing in his mind. But before he could do anything about them, he really needed to shower.

 

“I’m going to Harvard Law School.” Steve says suddenly, walking into the shoddy dining room of the Commando’s shared apartment. He’s met with silence and five pairs of unblinking eyes. Gabe has his mouth open, about to take a bite out of his taco, but he’s practically frozen in shock.

“You’re what?” Jim finally says, breaking the silence.

“Going to Harvard.” Steve repeats bluntly. “I’m gonna go in the fall.”

“Like...on vacation?” Tim asks incredulously.

Steve shakes his head, smiling. “No. As a student. A law student.” 

Everyone is silent for a beat.

“But why?” asks Monty. “You’re an art student, Steve. Why in the hell would you want to go to Harvard Law School?” 

“Love,” Steve answers simply. 

He’s met with a few groans and Gabe finally takes a bite of his taco, mumbling something under his breath through a mouthful of beef and lettuce. “Not what I thought would happen…”

“I’m serious!” Steve walks over to the table and pulls up a chair, starting to assemble a taco of his own. “I’m a great student. I have a 4.0, I’m driven, I have great reading comprehension skills and loads of other stuff. I think I’d be a great fit.” Steve takes a bite out of his taco and looks around the room. Everyone’s eyes are on him. “What? Is it that hard to believe? Am I not serious enough?” he says defensively through a mouthful.

“We never said that.” Monty assures him. “It’s just...this is out of the blue is all. If it’s really what you want, then I’ll support you. And I’m sure all the boys will as well. We’re here for you Steve.” Monty gives Steve one of his kindhearted half-smiles. Steve smiles back.

“Just give it more thought, okay? Harvard is expensive and hard. It’s a top three school.” Jim leans closer to Steve to make his point. “Don’t put yourself into debt just for the chance that you might win back the heart of Tony Shark.” Jim says. The meaning behind the nickname is not lost on Steve and he rolls his eyes, giving Jim a shove.

“Fine.” Steve says. “I’ll think about it. But if I still have the same feeling in a week, I’m going. And that’s that. You can all try your best to stop me.” Steve was stubborn as a bull when he got an idea into his head. And all the Commando’s knew it would be useless to try and stop him, so they’d do the next best thing. They were going to support Steve in whatever decision he chose to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyy lmao uh. if any of you are here for Stucky lemme remind you that Emmet doesn't actually appear in Legally Blonde until like a half hour into the movie so I hope you like Steve.  
> Just a reminder that I'm on tumblr and twitter with the same username that I have on here (@stickerjock) and I'd love if you'd hmu on there! I'm also an artist so you can see some of my rad drawings.  
> Shameless plug aside, I'm going to try and get myself to update once a week at the very least. I'm starting at my job this Thursday though, so we'll see how that goes.


	3. Once Seventy Five

Steve is quickly finding out that attending Harvard is going to be a lot easier said than done.

After a long talk with his advisor about all of the steps that he’ll have to take in order to even remotely qualify for Harvard, Steve sets up a checklist. First up, is academics.

Sure, he has a 4.0 average. In Graphic Design. Not an area that would seem all that impressive to anyone at Harvard Law. Steve has even gotten some eye rolls at his University when he tells fellow students his area of study, gritting his teeth when people tell him he should switch to a “real major”. The workload for art majors was just as heavy as other majors, if not heavier. Steve usually just laughs it off, but he could delve into a full lecture about the merits of the arts if provoked.

The most daunting aspect of the academic portion of Steve’s checklist is the LSATs. Steve had never been great at standardized testing, and made sure to apply to schools that looked at more than just his SAT scores. He did pretty abysmally in his math section, and only just got decent scores in the reading and writing sections. His anxiety always got the best of him and he’d choke in the middle of the test, stressing over whether or not he answered correctly and going back over his answers too many times. The whole atmosphere of standardized testing freaks Steve out, and he’s a huge proponent for abolishing them entirely. Why should someone be judged by how accurately they fill out a scantron sheet? Taking tests well doesn't always equate intelligence.

However, if Steve wants to get Tony back, he’s gotta learn how to calm the fuck down during tests.

During the next couple of weeks Steve attempts to balance schoolwork, figuring out financial stuff, and studying for the LSATs all at once. With the help of the Commandos of course. Steve doesn’t have too much of a social life to begin with, so he doesn’t feel like he’s missing out on too much by studying all the time. The most social activity he’d get before was usually going out on dates with Tony or staying in to watch movies or play videogames with the Commandos. It’s weird, but focusing on his studies is actually helping him get his mind off of Tony.

“Okay so the two scientists disagree on which part of the statement. A) pure research has its most valuable achievements in medical applications, B) pure research expands the boundaries of our knowledge of medicine, or C) pure research should have the saving of lives as an important goal?” Monty asks, putting down the practice book to take a sip from his travel mug of coffee.

Steve rubs at his eyes and leans back in his chair. “Um…..B? I think?” He’s just guessing at this point, too tired out to even give the question some actual thought. They’ve been in the library for hours now and Steve feels like he hasn’t made any real progress. He’s only gotten about half the questions right because they’re all phrased in some stupid convoluted way made specifically to mess him up.

Monty sighs and shakes his head. “The answer was A. You can check out the explanation if you want.” He slides the practice book across the table to Steve, pointing at the passage.

Steve responds by closing the book. “This is stupid. These tests are stupid.” He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the closed textbook. He knows he’s acting childish but he’s tired and frustrated that he just can’t seem to get any of this right. Steve was thought he was a relatively smart person, but all of these questions just seem to be going right over his head. He’d taken three practice tests already and not managed to get anything over 150. He needs a 175 to even be considered for Harvard.

Monty gives him a little half smile and reaches over to grab to book and put it in his messenger back. “You’ve studied enough tonight. Let’s head back.” he says, tilting his head in the direction of the door.

Steve meets his eyes and hesitates for a moment.“Fine.” he sighs and grabs his jacket off of the back of the chair. He can tell he’s being a little petulant, but he doesn’t really care right now. He makes a note to apologize to Monty later when he’s feeling more rational.

The two walk home in near silence, not as awkward as it is understanding. Monty and Steve occasionally brush shoulders as they walk and the physical contact helps Steve to feel just a little bit more grounded. He realises with a little sinking feeling that he hadn’t really been touched by another person since the breakup with Tony. His friends had all given him supportive hugs after hearing the news, but Steve had been starved for affection since then. Tony was a very physical guy, and Steve was always used to having an arm around his waist or a hand on his thigh. He was in dire need of a hug.

Monty unlocks the door to their apartment and Steve realises that he’s walked the whole way home on autopilot. He doesn’t remember the whole journey back or even how long it took. He hopes that Monty wasn’t trying to talk to him during it or anything. He doesn’t need him to think him any ruder than he’s already been.

Before Monty opens the door Steve stops him with an outstretched hand.

“Hey…” he starts, sheepishly. “I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for being such an ass lately. You don’t have to help me with any of this but you’re doing it anyway and I really appreciate that.” Steve averts his gaze and looks at the floor, running his hand through his hair.

Monty gives Steve another smile. “You’re allowed to be frustrated.” He says, turning to face Steve more directly and giving him all his attention. “You’ve just gone through a really hard time and the stress of all this academic stuff is getting to you. To be honest, I’d be a bit freaked out if you were all happy and chipper right now. You have the right to be a little grumpy right now.” He punches Steve’s shoulder playfully.

Steve feigns injury before stopping and giving a little sigh. “Thanks,” he says earnestly. “I needed that.”

The two finally enter the apartment with Steve’s head feeling a little clearer.

 

Steve spends the next few weeks with his head perpetually buried in his LSAT prep book. He’s starting to finally get the hang of everything. The reading comprehension based questions are his strongest suit, and he’s joined a study group of a bunch of Pre-Law students on his campus to help him with the other sections. They’ve supplied him with some really helpful tips about navigating the questions and different ways to think about the information he’s been given. After scoring a 173 on the most recent practice test, it hits him. He could actually make it into Harvard.

He has several strong recommendation letters from former employers, professors, and mentors as well as a strong person essay in the works. The only really positive aspect of being an orphan with a bunch of chronic illnesses is that it makes for great essay material, Steve thinks a little cynically. Along with the essay written in the traditional format, Steve animates a ‘Draw My Life’ style video to go along with it, complete with narration. He doesn’t spin his life into some sort of depressing sob-story, but rather tells his life as a story of overcoming adversity and wanting to help others to do the same.

He decides that he wants to become a public defender if he actually does get into Harvard. Most of the people he would be representing would be under-privileged and unable to pay to defend themselves from charges against them. These people, more often than not, were just trying to help their families in any way they could, and Steve wants to help them.He doesn’t want all of his reasons for applying to Harvard to be selfish. He wonders what track Tony is going to take. Probably going to become some sort of high level prosecutor or something, he thinks. That’s definitely more Tony’s speed.

Steve puts down the workbook he wasn’t paying attention to anyway and opens up facebook on his phone, immediately navigating to Tony’s profile. It’s just become a habit now and he doesn’t feel too guilty about it. He scrolls through the usual party pics with Rhodey and Pepper as well as a few kind of douchey selfies with too many filters. Tony’s wearing his trademark aviators in most of those. Steve steels himself before looking at Tony’s relationship status and lets out a small sigh of relief when he sees it’s still set to ‘Single’. He locks his phone and flops down on the bed, surrounded by prep materials, and closes his eyes. He isn’t meaning to drift off, but it happens anyway. He dreams of scantron sheets and Tony.

 

Steve feels like if he stares at the envelope any harder it will burst into flames.

His scores arrived this morning. Tim was the one to get the mail that morning and as he dropped it off at the door, Steve could tell it was something important. Tim gave him a nervous smile as he handed the envelope to Steve and left without really saying anything. Steve had held it for a while, but couldn’t bring himself to open it just yet and decided to try and distract himself for the rest of the day instead. He couldn’t bare the disappointment after all the prep work he did and the help and support he received from his friends. He just doesn’t want to feel like he’s not good enough. For Harvard and for Tony, he thinks, a little embarrassed about it.

It’s midnight, and Steve is vacuuming the entire apartment even though he had already done it yesterday. He’s just killing time at this point, trying not to look at the envelope sitting ominously on the counter and failing miserably. Finally he decides enough is enough and he turns off the vacuum abruptly and stalks over to the counter, picking up the envelope and ripping it before he can change his mind.

Both Gabe and Monty see him from the couch and turn towards him, interested in what the results are. The only sound in the apartment is the rustling of paper for a few brief seconds before Steve unfolds the paper and gasps, smiling. He suddenly feels Gabe’s hand on his shoulder as he tries to sneak a peek at the score. Monty is making his way over as well.

Steve lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and looks up at his friends, clutching the paper to his chest.

“I did it,” he says softly, his voice taken over by sheer relief. “We did it.”

Gabe whoops and Monty wraps Steve in a supportive hug. All their hard work together had paid off.

Steve looks at the paper one last time before getting into the full throes of celebration.

175

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh sorry for how late this is. This chapter was really hard to get out. I've been really busy with my summer job lately and it doesn't give me much free time to work on anything. Also standardized testing and applying for schools are both things that SUPER stress me out so this was actually kind of emotionally taxing for me. I hope it doesn't come across that way.
> 
> Anyway, I have most of the rest of the fic outlined (on pink post-it notes lol) so there shouldn't be this much of a wait for the next chapter! I just want Steve and Bucky to meet already. Don't you?


	4. I Go Here?

The summer before Steve attends Harvard crawls by uneventfully, and to Steve it can sometimes feel like days go on for months.

His entire summer is made up of work. Working his two jobs (one at Burger King and the other as a caricature artist at Coney Island), doing countless commissions for his followers, and keeping up with his Patreon is exhausting. He comes home dragging his feet and smelling like fry oil only to sit as his desk and draw for a few more hours before conking out and doing it all over again the next day. Steve’s invested in a wrist brace after all the drawing he’s done over the summer. He wishes he didn’t have to work himself to death to prepare for the financial strain that Harvard’s going to put him under, but that’s just how it goes.

His followers are supportive, and commissions are pouring in. Steve doesn’t usually do them often because he has a pretty large following and it would get overwhelming quickly, but as of now he’s taking whatever he can get. He doesn’t compromise on his prices though, he’s getting paid fairly for his work. He tries to continue writing his webcomic over the summer, but he’s just so overwhelmed that he decides to eventually put it on temporary hiatus for the rest of the summer. He thinks that this hard work is probably telling of what’s to come at Harvard in the fall.

 

 

Standing in front of the illustrious brick building and surrounded by other students bustling about, Steve feels like he may be a bit in over his head.

He’s here, alone in this sea of people, with absolutely no idea what to do next. _Check in, probably,_ says a slightly condescending voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Tony. Steve shakes his head and tries to bring himself back to the present. He’s here. He’s made it.

He checks in and moves all of his stuff into his dorm, which isn’t any nicer or bigger than the one he had his freshman year of undergrad. He only brought about two suitcases and a backpack full of things, planning on going shopping for more stuff to fill his apartment later that day. He didn’t bring any bedding with him, he realises, and types a reminder on his phone to go out for stuff tonight. It’d be really annoying if he came back from his first day of orientation only to realise he could only sleep on a cold, bare mattress with not even a pillow to keep him comfortable. 

After setting the reminder, Steve goes back outside to meet his orientation group.

He’s got his orientation packet in his messenger bag slung over his shoulder and he’s wearing a light blue jacket that he knows compliments his eyes. He wants to make a good first impression on these people if he’s going to spend the next few years with them. He makes his way to the designated meeting place, a picnic table on the green, and sits down among the other members of his orientation group. 

There’s already three other first year students there when Steve arrives, none of them really talking to one another. He sees two white guys, one blonde with hearing aids and one brunet fidgeting with something under the table, as well as a younger brunette girl with wide, slightly crazy eyes. She has her hands in her pockets and is pointedly not making eye contact with anyone. Steve sits down next to her to even out the arrangement. He puts his messenger bag on the table and looks around at the other students. None of them look at him or say anything.

“Hi…” he tries to get a conversation going while they wait for the rest of their group. The brunet guy looks up and makes eye contact, smiling politely before going back to whatever it is he’s messing with. Nobody else really acknowledges him and Steve resigns himself to waiting silently until the orientation leader comes. His cheeks flush red a bit and he pulls out his phone to pass the time, scrolling aimlessly on twitter.

A few more people trickle over to their spot. Steve sees yet another fidgety white guy and a stoic looking black guy. It seems that the girl sitting next to him is the only girl in their group, Steve notices with a little pity. He tries smiling at her and she looks away quickly, obviously nervous. The orientation leader finally arrives, a gruff looking white guy with coarse black hair that sticks out in tufts. He looks like he really doesn’t want to be here.

“Alright” the gruff guy starts, “Introductions. I’m sure you guys don’t want to do this as much as I do because it’s awkward and annoying, but we’re going to do it anyway. I’m Logan,” he says and looks at the fidgety white guy to his left, the smaller one with glasses.

“I’m uh...Peter,” the kid says. He mentions that he graduated from MIT with a degree in Computer Science and Molecular Biology and wants to become a patent lawyer. Steve’s eyes almost bug out of his head. This kid was smart. Like actually really smart. Peter looks at the black guy next to him, urging him to take over.

“Sam Wilson,” he introduces himself. “I’m Air Force ROTC. Just trying to do my part and get a quality education at the same time.” He smiles warmly and the tense atmosphere around him lifts a bit.

The next person to go is Scott, another sciency guy who had some troubles with the law but is trying to get back on the right path. Then Clint who speaks in a combination of sign language and slightly slurred speech which is when Steve realises why he hadn’t acknowledged him when he said hi earlier and he feels really stupid. Next is Wanda, the quiet girl sitting next to him. She surprises everyone with an incredibly thick Eastern European accent, along with her age. She’s only seventeen and apparently some Romanian prodigy. Steve wonders how he hasn’t heard anything about her. She keeps her head down the entire time she introduces herself, only lifting her eyes once she’s finished looking at Steve and prompting him to continue. Steve realises he’s the last to go and takes a deep breath, all eyes are on him.

“Uhh hi. I’m Steve Rogers. I graduated from a small liberal arts school in upstate New York with a degree in Graphic Design and uh...now i’m here, I guess…” He trails off, feeling vastly overshadowed by the experiences of his peers. “I uh.. Run a webcomic online and draw a lot. And I’m active in the social justice community?” He ends the last sentence with what sounds like a question mark, feeling more nervous. He doesn’t know what could actually sound impressive to these guys. He can feel his face turning red, but nobody seems to make fun of him for it. They’re probably all as nervous as he is, he realises.

The rest of orientation goes by uneventfully. Steve strikes up somewhat of a friendship with Sam, Clint, and Scott. It turns out that Clint’s hearing aids help him a bit and he lipreads really well to pick up where they don’t catch everything. He still half-signs everything he says, presumably out of habit. Steve thinks he’s really cool. Sam ends up being a lot goofier than he was at first, the strict military persona melting away with each joke he cracks. Scott is...weird. Steve decides. But a good kind of weird that he can get behind. The four of them eat lunch together each day of orientation, all relieved to have found people they can talk to. It makes everything a little less daunting.

 

 

The first day of class, however, is just as nerve wracking as Steve had dreaded.

He buys all of his textbooks beforehand, because unlike in his classes in undergrad, he’s sure he’s going to actually have to use these. Armed with a textbook, laptop, notebook, folder, and assorted pens all shoved in his messenger bag, Steve makes his way to room 104. He’s tried to memorize his schedule and the location for all of his classes, but he’s sure that he’s going to get lost. This campus is pretty impressive, and way larger than his tiny old university. Miraculously he manages to find his way to the lecture hall and settles in a seat close to the front for his first class.

He’s early and there are only a few other students there with him. One girl with a slightly wavy red bob practically glides through the door and sits directly behind him. Steve’s too nervous to say hello so he opens his notebook instead, idly doodling on the pages while he waits for the professor to appear.

At 9 AM on the dot the professor walks in, closes and locks the door behind him, and places his briefcase on the desk at the front of the lecture hall. Steve gulps. He literally looks like a caricature of a strict college professor. No professors at his old school had actually locked late students out. Steve realises he’s in for a hell of a ride.

The professor introduces himself as Dr. Erskine, and welcomes the students who actually managed to make it to his class on time to Civil Procedure I. He spends the first hour of class handing out and going over the syllabus, a multi page paper (double sided, Steve notes) detailing all the due dates and expectations for this semester’s assignments. Steve notices that the professor has some sort of accent. German or Swedish or something, but doesn’t remark on it when Erskine asks if the class has any questions. Instead he puts the syllabus into his folder and reaches for his messenger bag, assuming class to be over. Instead he gets a pointed look from Dr. Erskine and promptly drops his messenger bag back onto the floor.

“Are you packing up?” Erskine asks, looking directly at Steve. “Have you decided that class is over?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat and shakes his head wordlessly, his heart beginning to thrum loudly in his chest. “I uh...didn’t expect you to continue after going over the syllabus, sir. Sorry.” he says meekly in response, his cheeks flushing. He can feel other students’ eyes on him.

Erskine raises his eyebrows. “By all means if you’re ready to go, then go. You can come back when you’re ready to let me make the decisions for my own class.” he gestures to the door. Steve can hear some whispers from his classmates. Everyone seems unable to tell if Erskine is being serious or not. Erskine directs his attention to the redhead sitting directly behind Steve.

“Ms. Romanov, is it?” he says, taking a quick glance at the seating chart everyone had filled out earlier. “Do you believe Mr. Rogers should have a seat outside?” Erskine looks back to Steve and the entire class goes silent. He’s being serious. Steve’s face has never been redder. He looks back at the girl behind him and waits for her response.

“I think that if he’s not ready to stay more than an hour in one classroom then he has no place here” the woman, Romanov, replies cooly, never once looking at Steve.

Steve hesitates a beat before gathering his things and walking out of the room, the blood rushing in his ears drowning out all the whispers of his classmates. He tries to not slam the door on his way out, but it closes loudly anyway. Erskine told him to take a seat, so he thinks he’ll want to talk to him afterwards. Steve sits on a bench in the hall and sulks, crossing his arms across his chest. He doesn’t let himself cry.

He sits like that for a while, holding his messenger bag to his chest and trying to calm down before he notices that someone has sat down beside him. Another wave of embarrassment takes over when he realises that he probably looks like a petulant child, and he pretends not to notice the person beside him.

That only works for so long though, because 1) the person smells really nice and 2) he asks Steve if he’s doing okay, so Steve has to acknowledge him now, he guesses.

“You alright?” the guy asks again, his eyebrows furrowed. Steve can see that his eyebrows are furrowed because he’s actually looking at him now, not ignoring him. He has really nice eyebrows actually. And nice eyes. And a good jawline. Steve is silent for a moment before responding, and he can tell the guy thinks he’s crazy or something because he looks even more concerned. Steve realises he must look like an emotional wreck.

“M’fine.” he responds bluntly. “Got kicked out of class.” he adds, answering what would probably be the guy’s next question. Steve looks away from him and back at the ground, staring intently at his shoes.

The guy keeps talking, much to Steve’s chagrin. Cute as he is, Steve just sort of wants to be left alone. 

“Was it Erskine?” he asks, gesturing to the door across the hallway. Steve nods and the guy lets out an ‘ahh’ noise. “Thought so. He always kicks someone out on the first day to scare everyone into thinking he’s a hardass. Don’t take it personally.”

Steve looks back up at him and the guy is giving him a sympathetic sort of smile. “Thanks…” Steve says, a little wary before asking, “Are you, like, from New York? Sorry if that’s weird I just….your accent.” He flounders. It’s true he wanted to know more about this guy’s deal, but he couldn’t think of anything really to say. He thought he caught a bit of New York interspersed with the guys words, but he could be wrong.

The guy nods. “Brooklyn” he says, lifting his chin and giving Steve a smile. “I assume you’re also from the city?”

Steve nods in return. “Brooklyn, yeah,” he says. “Sorry for being kind of rude earlier. I’m just...not used to this yet.” He makes a sort of all encompassing hand gesture and the guy nods in understanding. “I’m Steve by the way,” He says, holding out his hand to shake. He thinks he might as well get used to this kind of thing, introducing himself with a handshake instead of an awkward wave.

“James,” The guy replies. “James Barnes.” He extends his hand to shake and that’s when Steve sees he only has one, the left sleeve of his suit is pinned up below the shoulder. He tries to not make a thing out of it and shakes the guy, James’, hand. Steve’s hands are kind of clammy from his experience in the class earlier and he hopes this guy isn’t grossed out or anything. He hopes he doesn’t think it’s because he’s creeped out by his arm. James’ handshake stays firm though and eventually Steve realises that he’s been shaking his hand for way longer than necessary.

“Nice to meet you,” he says awkwardly before finally letting go. He sees James try to subtly wipe Steve’s hand sweat off on his trousers. Steve winces internally. He totally noticed his hand sweat. Great.

“You too,” James responds, cocking his head to the side. “So who are your other professors. Most of the ones I had my first year are still teaching. Maybe I can give you some tips.” He says, and waggles his eyebrows in a playful manner.

“Uhh…” Steve opens his messenger bag and pulls out his obnoxiously colour-coded planner, flipping to the correct page. “I have Erskine, Zola, and Pym. All weird names.” He says, wrinkling up his nose a bit and closing his planner. He looks back at James who sighs and leans his head back against the wall, looking up as if trying to remember some important details.

“Let’s see..” He starts, “Erskine isn’t as much of a dick as he seems like on the first day. He just really wants everyone to try in his class. Zola unfortunately is mostly a dick. He’s really jaded and pretty much lives by the whole ‘shark’ stereotype surrounding lawyers. Make sure to read the footnotes in his assigned readings. That’s where he gets you on the tests. And Pym is pretty chill. He’s really old and has a lot of cool bugs in his office. Definitely take advantage of his office hours. He likes to see students reaching out for help outside of class.” James finishes, looking back at Steve.

“Thank you.” Steve says. “That was...probably the most helpful information anyone’s given me at this school,” he says honestly, running his hand through his hair. He wonders what James means when he says ‘cool bugs’ though. Like? Actual live bugs? Guess he’ll have to find out.

James gives Steve another lopsided smile. “No problem.” He responds. “Let me know if you have any more questions or anything. I’ve been through all this before and I know just how freaking stressful it can be.” 

Steve nods, but doesn’t ask anything. All of the classes are starting to let out and students are trickling into the hallways. Steve waits for Dr. Erskine to appear before his attention is diverted to a man exiting a nearby classroom. Tony, Steve thinks. And it’s definitely him. It looks like he’s grown a weird goatee thing over the summer, but it’s him. Steve is too shocked that he’s actually seeing him to saying anything. He hasn’t actually thought this far. He lets out a sort of undignified squeak instead of real words, but that seems to be enough to catch his attention. Tony does a double take and stops in his tracks.

“Steve?” he asks, taking off his sunglasses as if they were making him hallucinate the sight of his ex boyfriend. “Why are you here? Are you like, visiting me? Or something?” He asks incredulously, stepping towards the bench where Steve and James are still sitting.

“I take it you two know each other.” James says. He looks between the two men and stands up. “It was nice to meet you, Steve.” He says, giving a nod to Tony as well.

Steve looks up at James. “Nice to meet you too! And thank you, James.”

“You can call me Bucky!” the guy, Bucky, says before walking away through the crowded hall, giving Steve a wave with his right hand. Steve waves back weakly before standing up and looking at Tony.

“I go here.” he says, trying to steel himself against his nerves. ”To Harvard? Law School?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YIKES Sorry that took so long to crank out. I really liked writing this chapter though! I hope you guys liked it!  
> Just so you know I have work almost every day this summer, which doesn't really leave me much time to write, but luckily (or unluckily??) I got sick yesterday and that allowed me to stay home today and WRITE. I don't know if I've already said this, but I have pretty much the rest of the fic planned out from here on a bunch of pink post-it notes that I'm slowly but surely transferring into a word document. I feel like you're gonna like where it's going.  
> Anyway! Follow me on twitter or tumblr (my username is stickerjock on almost every social media account) to hear me yell about Stucky.  
> Also i fuckign,,,,FINALLY learned how to do italics on here. I felt like a neanderthal discovering fire for the first time. Amen.  
> just so everyone knows i am literally bullshitting everything when it comes to harvard. research makes me want to legit die so most of this is LITERALLY just based off of legally blonde the movie so. i hope that satisfies you. if any of you guys actually do go to harvard please write me a lengthy hatemail detailing everything i'm doing wrong so i can print it out and hang it on my bulletin board. thank you


	5. What, Like It's Hard?

“ _You_ got into _Harvard Law_?” Tony asks, louder than Steve would have liked. He looks genuinely confused, like he doesn’t believe Steve had the potential to be accepted to the school in the first place. Tony takes a step back and crosses his arms, looking Steve up and down. He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. It might just be Steve’s imagination, but he kind of looks...impressed.

“What, like it’s hard?” Steve responds, mimicking Tony’s body language slightly and crossing his arms as well. However his position is more defensive than cocky.

Tony shakes his head and smiles at him, dropping his arms and putting his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry, babe it’s not that I didn’t believe you it’s just…” he seems to be at a loss for words for a moment. _Tread carefully_ , Steve thinks. “You’re an _artist_. I didn’t think you’d even be interested in this sort of thing is all. Don’t take it personally, but I didn’t think you’d be cut out for a place like Harvard. CalArts, maybe, but not Harvard.” Tony punctuates the end of his thought with a small shrug.

Steve prickles at the ‘maybe’, an insinuation that he couldn’t get into CalArts, but pushes it to the back of his mind. This is what he wanted, wasn’t it? To see Tony again? Why is this reunion turning out to be more hostile than romantic?

“Well I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I?.” Steve replies, leaning forward, eyes wide. His arms remain crossed tightly over his chest.

Their reunion is cut short when Steve hears his name being called from across the hall.

“Mr. Rogers,” Erskine’s voice calls gently from the lecture hall’s doorway. “Would you mind stepping in here for a moment?”

Steve looks at him and nods sharply. He turns back to Tony.

“My professor,” he says as an explanation. “See you around campus” Steve says bluntly. His energy is too drained from the entire day’s events to generate a witty remark.

“Apparently I will.” Tony responds before putting his dumb sunglasses back on and continuing down the hallway. _Who even wears sunglasses indoors?_ Steve thinks before rolling his eyes and making his way back into the classroom.

He ducks his head a bit as he walks through the doorway, not making eye contact with Dr. Erskine. Steve sits in his assigned seat at the front of the classroom and pulls the sleeves of his cardigan over his hands, a nervous habit. Erskine takes the seat next to him rather than sitting at his desk in the front, Steve notes. There’s a few moments of awkward silence before Steve gathers his courage enough to speak.

Steve turns to face his professor head on, wanting his apology to feel genuine. “I just wanted to apologise for packing up early, Professor. I really didn’t expect the class to go on for any longer since it was the first day. I’m sorry if I seemed rude, I’m just...not used to this...environment.” Steve trails off and Erskine interrupts him.

“No apology necessary. I just needed someone to misstep so I could make a brief example.” he gives Steve a gentle, apologetic smile before continuing. “I actually called you back here to apologise to you.” Erskine takes off his glasses and begins cleaning them with his cardigan. “You see, you have to make your students at least _think_ you’re tough if you want them to respect you. One example is all they need to behave for the rest of the semester. I’m sorry it had to be you. No hard feelings, I hope? You seem like a nice boy.”

Steve sits with his jaw slack for a moment, dumbfounded that this Professor took the time to apologise to him individually instead of letting him believe in his hardass persona along with the rest of the class. He could’ve just let him deal with his embarrassment by himself, but he actually seems to care about Steve’s feelings and experience at Harvard. Erskine raises his eyebrows expectantly and Steve snaps back into reality.

“Um… no hard feelings, sir. I appreciate the apology. Thanks for taking the time and consideration and everything.” Steve blushes a bit, feeling a little exposed by being alone in a room with Dr. Erskine. Being on the smaller side, he has the tendency to fade into the background. He isn’t used to being focused on so intently, but when Dr. Erskine looks at him, it’s more of a searching than dissecting gaze. It’s still intense though, and Steve isn’t used to that kind of attention. Like someone’s seeing something in him that he can’t.

Erskine pats Steve on the shoulder before standing up. “I’m glad you’ve forgiven me.” he says. Steve Stands up and follows Erskine to the door. “And in case you need me, my office is always open. Drop by if you need any advice.” he says with a small smile. 

Steve nods and mutters a small “Thank you,” before ducking out of the door and into the hallway. Erskine was nice enough, but Steve is still finding himself to be a bit intimidated. He only hopes that his next class won’t be such a disaster. He opens his planner and flips to the page where he outlined his weekly schedule. He still has one more class to go to today, but it isn’t until later in the afternoon. There’s still time to grab lunch before then. Steve brings out his phone and opens the group chat comprising of himself, Scott, Sam, and Clint and types out a quick message saying that he’s headed to the dining hall if anyone wants to join him. Scott responds _‘still in class :P’_ but Sam and Clint are free and they make plans to meet at the dining hall in five minutes. Steve pockets his phone and runs his hand through his hair. It’ll be nice to vent about his day with his friends.

 

 

After lunch, the guys say their goodbyes and Steve checks the time on his phone. He still has a few minutes to wander around before class. He doesn’t have any missed calls or texts from Tony, he notes absently before locking his screen and putting it back into his pocket. Steve buries his hands in the pockets of his cardigan and trudges to class, not particularly excited after this morning’s experience. He’d compared schedules with his friends earlier, and the only class any of them have in common is with Professor Pym, which isn’t until tomorrow. Steve tries not to let his anxieties get to him, but he can’t help feeling alone here. Did he really make the right decision, dropping everything in New York to chase after some guy who dumped him and sinking even deeper into student loan debt in the process? He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of those kinds of thoughts. He’s better than this, he thinks. He’s going to make a real difference with what he does after law school, work for a nonprofit civil rights organization or something, and barely scrape by but it’s going to be better than wallowing in self pity. Oh, and get back together with Tony of course. Which was kind of the whole point of this thing.

Steve looks up from the path to see that he’s arrived at his destination. Sighing to himself, he pushes through the door of the building and steps inside, looking around a bit to get his bearings. He thinks he remembers the layout of the building from orientation, but isn’t sure. Luckily fate chose that moment for another person to pass by, and Steve takes that opportunity to ask for directions.

“Excuse me,” he asks. “I’m looking for Criminal Law with Professor Zola?” Steve looks up from reading the course’s name off of his schedule and raises his eyebrows. Just his luck that the one person he decides to stop ends up being the cute guy who saw him in his utterly pathetic state earlier. Nice going.

“Oh...uh...hello again.” he says dumbly, before giving the guy _(what was his name again? Oh, Bucky. Right)_ a not-so-subtle once over. He looks just as sharp as he did that morning, if not shaper. His hair has been pulled back into a crisp ponytail instead of hanging around his face about chin-length the way it was this morning, and not a single strand is out of place. He still smells really nice too, Steve notes. He has to figure out what kind of cologne this guy wears because it’s like...really nice and _oh crap_ Steve catches himself staring and this guy is talking and pointing down the hallway and Steve definitely wasn’t listening to whatever it was he was saying.

“I’m sorry...what?” Steve blinks, pretending to not understand the guy’s directions.

Apparently Steve must look like an actual idiot because the guy just gives him a little smile and shakes his head.

“Criminal Law? That’s where I’m going.” He says kindly. “You can tag along if you want.”

Steve nods, his face flushing as he follows the man down the hallway to the right and into the classroom. It’s another large lecture hall. Steve gives the man a brief thank you before finding a seat in the middle of the classroom, not wanting to bring attention to himself like he did this morning. It’s still a few minutes before class officially begins, so a few students are still trickling in through the door. Steve looks around the room for a familiar face, but doesn’t see anyone he recognizes. He catches the eye of the guy from earlier, Bucky, who’s at the front of the classroom for some reason, leaning on the desk. Steve has a sinking feeling in his gut for a second. Could this guy be his professor? He’s way too young to be able to teach a college class, right? But he does look incredibly professional and definitely seems at ease in front of the crowd of students.

Steve’s train of thought is interrupted when he sees a familiar face waltz through the door. He makes eye contact with Tony and gives him a little wave, motioning for him to sit next to him. Steve knows it seems a little desperate, but he’s eager to ease the tension after their conversation earlier. He freezes when he sees the redheaded girl from his morning class walking in not two feet behind him. She catches up and grabs his upper arm gently, guiding him to a different area of the classroom without looking up at Steve. She probably didn’t know Steve asked Tony to sit with him.

They sit down a few rows in front of Steve. Tony looks back and gives Steve an apologetic shrug before turning back around and putting his arm around the redhead, Romanov. Steve probably only remembers her name because it sounds super Russian, like she could be the protagonist of a big Hollywood action blockbuster or something.

Steve lets his gaze wander back to the door. The trickle of students has slowed considerably, and there’s just one or two stragglers making their way into the classroom. He notices the weird girl from his orientation group come in. She looks around the classroom with wild eyes, holding the straps of her backpack so hard her knuckles are practically white. Eventually, she settles on a seat all the way in the back of the lecture hall. She drops her backpack on her desk with a thud and pulls the hood of her jacket up over her head, pulling the drawstring so tight that Steve can barely see her eyes. She catches him staring and he immediately whips his head back around to face the front of the room just in time to see a portly, balding man in a tweed suit walk into the classroom and stand directly in front of the desk. 

“Good afternoon, class,” the man begins, pacing pompously across the front of the classroom. “I am Professor Arnim Zola, this is Criminal Law, and most of the students sitting here...are chum.” he says menacingly, lowering his voice and giving the class a slow, sickening smile. Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t expecting Bucky’s description of Zola to be so...accurate. He thought the other man was exaggerating about him, but apparently he was spot on. Zola acts almost exactly like a cartoon villain, down to the German accent. It’s almost ridiculous.

The class goes on with Zola introducing himself and running a few scenarios by the students. He doesn’t so much as teach as just ask the students questions and assume they know the answers. If they don’t, he demeans them in one way or another. Not enough to get him in trouble, just enough to be humiliating and disheartening to the first years. Steve gets through the first day of class relatively unscathed, but burdened with a fifty page reading assignment. Zola doesn’t even acknowledge him the entire class, thankfully, which isn’t too surprising considering the number of students in the lecture hall. Steve keeps his head down as he walks out of the classroom, only lifting it to give Bucky a brief smile as a sort of thank you for leading him to the correct room. From what Steve could gather, he’s like some sort of TA or maybe Zola’s law partner. He didn’t say anything for the majority of class besides parroting correct answers when Zola prompted him after a student gave a wrong one. Bucky smiles back right before Steve steps outside to wait for Tony.  
He doesn’t have to wait too long. Tony isn’t the kind of guy to stay back and talk to the professor. Steve keeps his eyes on the door and sure enough Tony appears in less than a minute, the redhead from earlier not far behind him.

“Tony, hey!” Steve calls to get his attention. “How’s your first day been?” He walks along with Tony and Romanov _(he needs to figure out what her first name is)_ as they make their way to the building’s exit.

“It was decent.” Tony replies. “Nothing I can’t handle, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” Coming from anyone else the statement would have sounded rude or cocky, but Steve knew Tony and that was just how he talked. 

“That’s great!” he says, a little too enthusiastically. “Mine too. Decent, that is. This morning was a little rough though.” Steve says honestly.

“Well that’s swell.” Tony says. “I’ve gotta go. Catch you on the flip side. Deuces.” Tony gives Steve a halfhearted peace sign and makes for the door.

Steve laughs slightly in response and cuts in front of Tony before he leaves, stopping him to ask a question.

“So, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to get together sometime? To study and like...catch up?” Steve asks tentatively, giving a brief glance to the girl on Tony’s left. She still hasn’t said anything to Steve and her presence is putting him a little on edge.

“He’s busy.” the woman interjects before Tony can even open his mouth to reply. She’s looking directly at Steve now, and he realises this is the first time they’ve made eye contact. He feels incredibly scrutinized under her harsh, cold gaze.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve asks, baffled. He shakes his head. “Who even are you?” He lets some irritation seep into his voice. This girl doesn’t even acknowledge Steve for this entire conversation and now she’s dictating Tony’s plans? It’s the first day of class, how does she even know Tony’s schedule? And Steve didn’t even specify a time yet.

Tony looks at Steve apologetically and puts his arm around the woman’s waist, pulling her closer to him. She gives Steve a smirk and quirks her eyebrow.

_Oh._

Steve looks between the two of them and he can feel his throat constrict with anxiety. This is literally the worst case scenario.

“Steve this is Natasha. My girlfriend.” Tony says evenly and without malice. He looks at Steve a little sympathetically before Natasha relaxes into his embrace. Everything feels like it’s going in slow motion as Steve forces himself to smile and nod. He can’t bring himself to say anything yet. He’s still processing everything when the bombshell hits.

“Tony I’ve told you a thousand times, you have to get used to introducing me as your _fiancée_.” Natasha looks up at Tony, then directly at Steve. She smiles, challenging Steve to say anything before not-so-subtly adjusting the ring on her left hand. Tony grins a bit sheepishly, not being used to being caught in such an uncomfortable situation.

Okay. So _this_ is actually the worst case scenario.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOOOOO BOY it's been a while! Sorry about that. anyway this chapter was a pain in the ass to write and everything comes out longer than I want it to be. Originally this was gonna have more stuff, but I cut the chapter in half lol. ANYWAY I shouldn't take this long to put out the next one. Expect it sometime in the next week.
> 
> Also! I am LOVING the comments you guys are giving me! They are so so so sweet. I'm really appreciating the fact that you're all taking the time to leave comments and kudos and the like. THANK YOU!!!
> 
> Catch you on the flip side, as Tony would say.


	6. Prostitutes and Heroin and Porn

“My...fiancée.” Tony repeats, nodding. He looks up at Steve, a strange emotion recognizable in his eyes. Tony wets his lips nervously and stares at the ground, not looking back up at Steve again.

Steve’s mouth has gone completely dry. He manages a nod and a watery smile, feigning a semblance of normalcy even though he knows he looks like he’s been punched straight to the gut.

“Right. Well. Congratulations. Excuse me.” It’s a miracle Steve’s able to get those words out before turning a complete one hundred and eighty degrees and practically jogging out of the building, his books clutched tightly to his chest. He walks across campus on autopilot, biting back tears the entire time. He needs to get to a place where he can cry for a bit, but his room is all the way across campus and he can’t hold it together for that long. In the end he settles on the library, pushing through the doors and storming down to the sections with all the reference materials that nobody would be looking at this early in the semester. He settles down in between the shelves and sinks to the floor and it’s only then that he lets himself cry. Not loud sobs or anything pathetic as that, he still has some decency. He muffles his cries with his hand until the wave of emotions subside and he’s left sitting, sniffling by himself amongst the dusty old shelves left to marinate on this hell of a day.

That’s why Tony broke up with him. Not because he wasn’t serious enough. Not because he needed to marry a lawyer. Because he needed to marry a woman. 

Steve knew Tony was, as he put it, a ‘gold star gay’. Early in their relationship they had a long talk about labels and what they identified as. The simple fact was that Tony wasn’t attracted to women. Tony didn’t have a problem with the fact that Steve was bi, thankfully, but he’d always bring up how he couldn’t understand how he could like girls in the first place. Steve would just shrug it off, but now Tony was engaged to a girl and Steve couldn’t wrap his head around why. 

Tony wouldn’t have lied to him about his sexuality. That was one thing they were always honest with each other about: attraction. Tony knew Steve knew the truth about him and he was trusting him to keep it to himself. Steve remembers the pleading look Tony gave him when he introduced Natasha as his girlfriend. There was no way he could out him like that to Natasha. That would be cruel.

Since he obviously hadn’t changed his mind about his sexuality, what had changed? He was about to graduate from college, their relationship seemed perfect, his brother had just gotten married-

Wait.

Tony’s parents didn’t know he was gay, Steve realises suddenly. 

Steve had never met Mr. and Mrs. Stark. He thought that Tony was just playing coy about his family’s high economic status and didn’t want to scare Steve away, but that must not have been the case. He couldn’t meet Tony’s parents because they wouldn’t approve of his son dating a man. Every time Tony’s parents came to visit he would go out to dinner with them alone, or with Pepper by his side. Steve can’t believe he didn’t put two and two together. Tony is still in the closet at home.

“Hey...are you okay over there?” A voice from across the shelves breaks Steve from his reverie. Steve jumps, startled by the sudden interruption of his train of thought and looks up. A slightly balding man in his mid thirties, dressed in a button-down, slacks, and a blazer is looking at him between stacks of books. Steve is suddenly painfully aware of how pathetic he looks and wipes off his still tearstained face and runs his hands through his hair. “M’fine.” He says unconvincingly, not making eye contact with the man.

“Mmmmm I don’t think so.” The guy says, tilting his head. He walks around the bookshelf and plops down next to Steve. “Mind if I sit here?” he asks.

Yes. Steve wants to reply. The guy seems like he has good intentions though, so Steve just shakes his head and sulks a little more, letting the man sit next to him.

“Rough day?” the guys asks. Steve briefly nods his head in response.

“Wanna tell me about it?” the guy pries further. Steve sighs and looks over at him. Who does this guy think he is? Steve’s obviously embarrassed and not in the mood to talk, but he can’t help blubbering out today’s happenings. He really doesn’t have anyone to talk to here, and he doesn’t want to bother his friends back home. He’s already passed the embarrassment threshold for today. Why the hell not.

“I got kicked out of class, I feel like I don’t belong at Harvard, and I only came to this school to get back together with my ex-boyfriend only to find out that he’s engaged to some woman he’s never even talked about.” Steve says all in one breath, not breaking contact to gauge this guy’s reaction. The guy’s eyes are wide and it looks like he’s sucked in a breath.

“Yikes.” he says simply. “That’s...a lot.”

“Yeah, it’s a lot.” Steve responds. It feels good to actually talk to someone about it. Steve doesn’t like to complain, but so much has happened in the last 24 hours that he doesn’t feel so bad talking to this guy about it. Plus, he seems nice enough, and he asked, so. “I’m Steve, by the way.” he says, holding out his hand for the other to shake.

“Coulson,” the man responds, shaking Steve’s hand in return. “Well, Phil’s my first name, but everyone calls me Coulson. I work here. Uh, at the library, that is.” His hands are a bit clammy but Steve doesn’t mind. He stuffs his own hand in the pocket of his cardigan to wipe off the residual hand-sweat.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve replies. That explains why he was down here then. Probably organizing stuff.

“You too…” Coulson responds. There’s a bit of an awkward silence. How are you supposed to continue a conversation with a guy who just found you sitting on the floor crying? “So, uh, if you weren’t planning on going to law school, what were you gonna do instead?” Coulson asks.

Steve pauses for a moment before answering. They’re both still on the floor and he barely knows this guy, but he’s already told him about every embarrassing thing that’s happened to him today, so whatever. “Art.” He answers simply. “I graduated with a degree in Graphic Design. I was gonna be a designer or maybe illustrate stuff. I dunno.” All the planning that would’ve gone into finding a career in art after graduation went instead to LSAT prep and Harvard applications.

Coulson’s face brightens. “Oh, neat! I know you probably get asked this all the time, but can I see some of your work? Like what kind of art do you do?” He looks happy and eager. Steve relaxes. This is the kind of territory he’s suited to, people asking about his work. He’s used to non-artists fawning over his stuff. While Steve isn’t comfortable being the center of attention physically, he doesn’t mind compliments when they’re about his work. The fact that his drawings can evoke any kind of positive reaction from people is really rewarding and he cherishes it.

“Sure,” he says, pulling out his phone. He opens his portfolio, handing the phone to Coulson.

Coulson takes the phone and scrolls through the most recent images, smiling and making general comments of approval before stopping suddenly on a preview of Steve’s webcomic. His eyes go wide and he looks up at Steve, then back down to the phone. There’s a moment of anxiety before he says anything.

“You’re Steve Rogers?” Coulson exclaims, looking at the webcomic and clicking a link to the most recent chapter.

Steve nods dumbly. “Yeah?” he says, waiting on an explanation from the other man.

“I read your webcomic!” Coulson responds immediately, flipping the phone so the screen faces Steve. The most recent panel of his comic stares back at him. “This sounds so cliché, but I’m a huge fan.”

Steve’s face flushes for a moment before he can regain his composure. He wasn’t expecting to be recognized for his artwork in real life here, assuming that everyone was too busy being wrapped up in the word of law, but here he was. Face to face with a fan. “Uh...thanks. Thank you,” He mutters, turning away slightly so as to hide his flushed face.

The two chat for a while about Steve’s work, their own problems, Harvard itself, and anything they can talk about before Steve gets a text from the group chat saying the guys are getting dinner soon. He asks Coulson if he can point him in the right direction, he still hasn’t gotten used to the whole campus layout, and thanks him for the talk. “Anytime,” Coulson responds. He pats Steve on the shoulder before walking up to the exit and giving him directions.

Steve leaves the library with a sense of calm determination. He shouldn’t have to dedicate his time at Harvard Law to making people like him. He’s a student first, and throwing himself into his studies is a sure fire way to distract himself from the discomfort of seeing Tony with Natasha almost every day. Natasha is cold, ruthless, and calculating, nothing like Steve’s hopeless romantic demeanor. If Steve wants to convince Tony to change his mind, he’s not going to be able to do it directly. He’ll just have to become the best student at Harvard. And how hard could that be?

 

 

Steve spends the next few weeks with his nose in a multitude of books, highlighters perpetually at the ready. He never misses a class, turns in all his assignments on time, and makes sure to ask questions in all of his lectures. He gains a bit of a reputation as a try-hard, but it doesn’t bother him as much as the ‘weird artsy kid’ vibe people were assigning to him at the beginning of the semester. He doesn’t have much time to spend with the guys, but it doesn’t put too much of a strain on their friendship. He still makes sure to get lunch and dinner with them as often as his schedule allows it. Steve ends up sending most of his free time in the library, using the nearly vacant reference section in the basement as a quiet place to study. Most of the socialization he gets is from Coulson sitting with him on his breaks, chatting over a cup of coffee and a pile of notes. Steve learns that Coulson has a crush on a cellist who comes in to check out sheet music every so often. He blushes up to his ears whenever he talks about her, always a little embarrassed. The two mainly talk about Steve’s life, but sometimes Coulson talks about himself. Mid-thirties, library staff, single, has a dog named Thor, pretty content with how everything is going. Steve likes chatting with Coulson. Their conversations are always easy going, and nothing ever seems forced. It seems like they really click as friends. Sometimes Steve thinks it’s a little weird for his best friend to be over ten years older than him and not even a student, but hey. He’ll take what he can get.

Steve’s professors take note of his newfound determination, especially Zola. Steve always challenges other students’ opinions in his class, making a point to make ethics a strong priority.

“Mr. Stark,,” Zola begins, his sharp accent cutting through the air. “Would you be willing to take the case of the following banker accused of fraud?”

The whole class perks up, eager to see what kind of web Zola will spin this time. His class always begins with a hypothetical scenario, detailing a potential client, what they have been accused of, and asking whether or not the student would take their case. They always had some kind of moral dilemma. More often than not, Zola would be more than willing to wade through muddy waters to get a big fat check.

“A kind old grandma took her savings and she sent it off to your client, all she saved since she was born. Well, this banker, your client, promised to invest it. However, he abused her trust and spent her savings on prostitutes, heroine, and porn.” Zola awaits Stark’s response eagerly. The student took a few moments to collect himself before responding.

“No way, I wouldn’t defend someone like that.” Tony responded semi-confidently.

“Wrong!” Zola shouts immediately, shocking the whole classroom. This is how it always was. Steve knew he wanted to be a defense attorney, to protect the little guy, but it seemed like too many attorneys were just in it for the money.

“Excuse me?” Tony seemed taken aback. He’d never been so harshly corrected. Steve can’t help but smile a bit to himself, turning his head to face the wall. He gets a tiny bit of satisfaction in seeing Tony flounder.

“You could win this case in your sleep, Stark. The old coot is broke! She’ll probably be appointed some hack from legal aid. Put her on the stand, argue that granny is senile, and your guy goes free. Plus, with the money he has, he can get you high and laid.” The class is quiet. It seems like Zola’s gone a little too far with this one. Stealing from an old woman? Many of the students are shifting uncomfortably in their seats, Steve included.

Zola’s assistant clears his throat at the front of the classroom. “Really, Arnim, you’d encourage them to look past obvious fraud? For a check?” Steve looks up to see James with his hands in his suit pockets, moving from his spot by Zola’s desk into the center of the lecture hall. “They’re first years. Of course they’re going to encounter morally grey areas, but there’s no need to encourage that kind of practice.” He turns to face the class, his voice echoing over the students. “It’s up to your own moral discretion. If you’re comfortable taking on a case, then by all means do it. Everyone deserves a decent defense, but don’t compromise yourself just for the sake of a payout.”

Steve nods, enamored by the integrity in James’ words.

Zola scoffs. “Idealistic.” He shakes his head. “Moving on,”

The rest of the class flies by without incident. Steve answers a few questions and notices James catching his gaze after he speaks, a small smirk spreading across his face. James chuckles to himself after Steve argues with Zola over hypothetically defending a mob boss, citing a many specific historical cases and denoting why it would be a poor decision. Steve always gets worked up in Zola’s class. There’s an air of superiority the professor holds that rubs Steve the wrong way. He talks to all of his students like they’re stupid, always patronizing. Steve can’t help but feel like he’s a bully, which puts him on edge.

Right before class is dismissed, Zola makes an announcement. “There are four open positions in my firm for legal interns next semester. Impress me, and you may qualify. I’ll have you know, that every student that’s interned with me has made it in the legal world. It’s a hell of an addition to your resumes, and actual field experience. Without it, I doubt you’ll actually get anywhere.” He packs up his papers and leaves without any further information. James sighs and shakes his head, watching his boss leave.

Steve doesn’t give much thought to the internship. Working with Zola would likely be uncomfortable and morally compromising, two things that Steve would rather avoid. He puts his notes and his laptop back in his messenger bag and starts walking toward the exit, but he’s stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder. Steve jumps slightly before turning to see who grabbed his attention, expecting to see Tony.

“You were great today,” It’s James. Steve didn’t notice him lingering by the door. Steve steps out of the way of the exit, moving over to talk to the other man.

“Thanks... “ He says softly, wondering exactly why James singled him out.

“Really, not many people have the guts to argue so much with Zola. He’s literally paid to argue in court. I’ve never seen a student go toe-to-toe with him like that before. You’re a fireball.” He shakes his head and smiles, looking Steve right in the eyes. Steve finds himself mesmerized for a moment before responding.

“Thanks again,” he says. “I just have a really strong moral compass, I guess. It’d be really hard for me to defend someone I knew was a bad person. I mean, a lot of times good people are forced to do bad things because of their situation, but… Defending someone I knew was just a malicious, selfish person? I don’t know that I could do that…” he trails off, breaking eye contact with James and looking at his own scuffed sneakers instead.

“Well, keep it up,” James gives him another pat on the shoulder before grabbing his briefcase and heading out. Steve can’t help but notice that he’s wearing a prosthetic arm today, changing his usual silhouette.

He’s alone in the classroom now, and takes a few seconds to steady his heartbeat before adjusting his messenger bag and leaving for the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the grave* im back bitch
> 
> this is definitely not going to update regularly, but i have the whole fic outlined and i felt bad for leaving it for so long. i'm definitely going to try my best to finish it!!

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to read a Legally Blonde AU but there weren't any so i thought I'd write my own. I have no idea why I thought these two things would go well together, but hey. Steve's a blond, right?


End file.
